‘Drive My Car’ Director’s Latest Film Is Another Oscar-Worthy Triumph

VENICE, Italy—In comparison with many of Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s previous films—rich, novelistic affairs like Drive My Car or Happy Hour—his latest film is a finely turned short story. But, in the same way that the short stories of Alice Munro glancingly suggest whole worlds beyond the boundaries of their narrative, Evil Does Not Exist seizes different perspectives on the fly. The film, which premiered at the Venice Film Festival, finds time to sketch so many characters, effortlessly gliding between from micro to macro and back again. The result is a sad, piercingly beautiful fable, whose delicacy and grace barely conceal Hamaguchi's mordant purpose.

Takumi, the film's main character, is a woodsman and, in his own words, a jack of all trades, living in a modest cabin with his eight-year-old daughter, Hana; we observe him closely in the film's hushed opening scenes as he goes about his work, chainsawing and then chopping wood that he arranges in neat stacks by his home. Quietness and focus are key as he domesticates the nature around him, drawing water in great vats from a shallow woodland stream. As shots ring out across the forest—hunters, shooting at deer across the valley—Takumi and a friend discuss a "glamping" project that is afoot. Glamping: the ugly word sticks out like a sore thumb; sounds disgusting in the mouths of these good men.

Already so much has been conveyed in this short stretch: a small mountainside village, drawn along communal lines; farms, a restaurant, and a school; nature and the humans and animals depending on it; and one portrait, of a quiet, resilient man. But the glamping project menaces this world: A company from Tokyo, two hours' drive away, is seeking to exploit a tract of land, imperiling local wildlife and ways of being. Two representatives from the company hold a meeting with figures from the community, including Takumi. In this extended scene, deftly conceived by Hamaguchi, locals hammer these corporate bastards with pert, angry questions, demanding to know how the project will operate and respect the surrounding environment. It becomes clear that this meeting is not a real consultation, but a cynical exercise in pacifying the smalltown folk. The mayor cautions these delegates: Water flows downstream, so those at the top of the river have a duty to those at the bottom.

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